


The Little Lies

by ManlyMan



Category: Final Fantasy Tactics
Genre: Agrias is gay, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bath Sex, F/F, Femslash, Genderbending, Genderswap, Loss of Virginity, Outdoor Sex, Ramza is a girl, So is Ramza, Sweet Polly Oliver, Vaginal Fingering, you know where this is going
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-03
Packaged: 2018-12-10 14:59:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11694090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManlyMan/pseuds/ManlyMan
Summary: Agrias and Ramza share secrets and have an experience.





	The Little Lies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SilverDagger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverDagger/gifts), [Stealth_Noodle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stealth_Noodle/gifts).



> This is the first piece of smuttiness that I've written in a long time, so tell me if I did anything wrong. Ramza being a girl in disguise is an idea I've flirted with for awhile, and now I've finally decided to act on it.

Agrias Oaks was a great many things, depending upon who you asked. To Princess Ovelia Atkascha, she was a woman made of swords, shields, and unconditional devotion. To the engineer Mustadio Bunansa, she was beauty and death and righteousness incarnate. To the templar Meliadoul Tengille, she was a blessed warrior whose soul shone with the light of God far brighter than the most lustrous armor of petty knights in silly fairytales, a holy guide to follow and a sororal hand to hold in the troubled times they shared. To the famed swordsman Cidolfus Orlandeau, she was a magnificent fighter who had yet to harness her true potential, mayhap surpassing even the great Thunder God Cid himself someday.

To the heroic warlord and tactician Ramza Beoulve, she was the dearest of friends. Ramza would not dare to call her merely an ally, for it would portray her as so much less than she actually was. There was a certain sense of trust between them that could be matched only by his sister, Alma; were one to somehow monetize this trust, Agrias would be a wealthy woman indeed.

* * *

 

It was one day, fateful to the two of them, but uneventful to the rest of the world, that this trust ran at its deepest. Regardless of what she was to everyone else, a busy week of fighting and trudging through the mud and muck of the Tchigolith Fenlands drove Agrias to believe she was a filthy, stinking mess. The swamp reeked of rotten plants and dead bodies, and the smell permeated absolutely everything. It was a wonder, she mused, that anyone could so much as breathe the noxious air.

A mercy appeared that afternoon in the form of the swamp’s end, and a pool of fresh, clear water that was not too cold for bathing. The stones at the bottom looked a tad slippery with silt, but she would just be careful. Eager to rid herself of the foulness of her travels, Agrias stripped down quickly; she would wash her clothes later. She undid her strawberry blonde braid as she stepped into the water, the chill of it still harsh enough to give her goosebumps, and then dunked herself entirely for a few seconds before rising again. Her soap- made from a particular kind of chestnut- in hand, she then began to scrub away the residue.

Mere minutes into her cleansing, Agrias heard the snap of twigs and underbrush from the nearby wood. She tensed up and turned in the direction of the noise. “Show yourself, creature,” she called to the source of the noise.

From the woods stepped a familiar face, armor lacquered blue-green, and straw gold hair shining dully in the light filtered by the treetops. Ramza.

“Oh! My apologies!” he said, turning his head away from her naked form. “I-I think I shall leave you now-”

“Fret not, Ramza,” replied Agrias. “I have shared baths with both men and women before, you are more than welcome to join me if you wish.” She looked him up and down, noting his own need for hygiene. “It would seem you could use some cleaning just as much as I.”

There was a pause and a bashfully muttered “Of course, yes. I only ask that you turn your head until I am in the water as well.”

Agrias nodded and did as was asked of her. When the clanking of his armor, the brushing of his clothes, and the swoosh of his treading of water were past did she face him again. She dipped her hand into the water and rubbed at a speck of filth on his reddening, almost childish visage. She found it curious that he still could not for the life of him grow facial hair, but she did not press the matter. They shared a smile for a moment before Agrias offered him her soap, which he readily took.

The time that passed while Ramza washed away the dirt and scum of that disgusting swamp was silent, but it was not awkward, or at least it was not for Agrias. After a while, she said, “If you give me the soap, I can scrub your back and then you can return the favor. Even after our Monk training, we are yet to be flexible enough to reach everywhere.”

A silent nod of Ramza’s head later, and Agrias was washing his back; he gave a relaxed sigh as she continued her ministrations. Cleaning him gave her a better view of his body, and her hands ran over his lines. She almost laughed at his frame, still so boyish and underdeveloped for a man of twenty years.

Once finished, she offered Ramza the soap and turned her own back to him, putting her hair over one shoulder to keep it out of the way. Whereas Agrias had found his body to be almost cutely small, Ramza saw the contours of her body to be beautiful and chiseled, but not manly. There were scars as well, most of them unworthy of notice; she likely had taken some floggings while being conditioned by the Church into the Holy Knight she was. There was one large scar on her lower back, a mark that looked like she had absorbed a rather nasty wound, perhaps a thrust from a sword. He ran his fingers over it softly, and Agrias’ muscles tensed slightly, at which Ramza refrained from going any further.

“A sword wound,” she said, answering his silent question. “When Goffard betrayed us at the falls of Zeirchele, he had managed to stab me in the back while I ran to the bridge. The White Mage who accompanied us healed me before it became grievous, but the damage was still done, and even magic could not spare me the mark.”

“Ah.”

Ramza continued to wash her back, first his hands shaking slightly, and then his whole body as he approached her hips. Such a pretty thing she was, so much so that he found it a great shame that something so beautiful would be involved in something so horrific as war, to be marred as she fought to save lives and to enforce her ideals.

His concentration on his foothold had slipped while he thought of her, and in turn so did he, flailing a bit as he fell into the water. His legs took Agrias underwater with him, her falling atop him as they both hit the pool’s bed. In the ensuing chaos, Agrias’ hand had accidentally found its way between Ramza’s legs, and she felt a lack of a certain something, her heart skipping a beat further in the one-two chain of surprises. When the both of them breached the surface of the water, she looked at Ramza, whose face was turning purple from a mix of mortification and a struggle to avoid crying. “You… Ramza, you are not…”

Ramza could only shake his- no,  _ her _ head, unable to speak.

Agrias reached for her, only for Ramza to back away, looking to flee the scene. It was not until Ramza had reached the shore that Agrias found the words she needed to say. “Ramza, hold! Can we not speak of this?”

Ramza paused just a few steps away from her clothes. She wanted to keep running, to escape her revived shame, but decided it would be no use. Agrias would find her and inquire, no matter how far she ran, and it was better to face her problems now than to let them fester like a sore. Her upper body began to shudder as the tears she held back broke free of the prison of her eyelashes. Agrias trudged from the water and stepped to Ramza’s front, holding her in a gentle embrace while Ramza cried over the knight’s shoulder. “Shh, Ramza,” said Agrias. “Fear not, your secret is one that we shall keep only to ourselves. I swear by the name of God, none shall know the truth but you and I.”

Her words seemed to have some effect, as Ramza’s sobbing slowed.

They continued to hold each other for a time, until Ramza had finished crying. Agrias had seen Ramza weep many times before, especially after battles that involved the slaying of fellow men and women of war. The worst had been after the death of Wiegraf Folles; from what Ramza had told her, he was once a man far more noble than the so-called ‘nobles’ he fought against, but after the death of his sister Milleuda, he slid down the moral slope until his death after being possessed by the Lucavi known as Belias. Ramza’s tears had lasted for a night and a day afterward.

“You need not tell me any more of this, if you so wish,” Agrias said as they let go, but Ramza shook her head. “What I need is to be honest with you, Agrias. I have no reason to hide, the least of whom from you.”

The both of them sat in the cool grass. “Father had been hoping for naught but sons. Even as a bastard, I could still be of some value to him, were I to be a man. He loved both Alma and I with all his heart, though daughters we were, but I could see the disappointment in his eyes, no matter how much he told me that he felt no such thing. To try and prove myself, that I was indeed worth his while, I began to dress and call myself a boy from a very young age, not long after Alma was born. Though Dycedarg and Zalbaag knew, she remains unaware.”

“That is an unusually early time to pass such judgment upon yourself, Ramza.”

Ramza sighed. “I know.” Leaning back and propping herself up on her hands, she continued to speak.

“After enough years of the front, I eventually deluded myself into actually believing that I am male, almost. No matter how much one may will it, one’s body does not always… cooperate, so to speak, with one’s thoughts. Even developing a taste for women did not prove to be enough, and so I continue to knowingly lie to myself.”

Agrias was silent, though her ears pinkened slightly at the mention of Ramza being a woman who held an attraction towards other women. Finally, she spoke as well.

“Ramza, may I share a secret of my own with you?”

“Of course.”

Agrias scooted closer by a few inches. “I too bear…  _ thoughts _ about women. It was one of the primary reasons I would be regularly whipped during my time as an orphan at the monastery. I was told such feelings are blasphemy, sacrilege, and heresy, and until I purged such thoughts from myself, I would never be worthy in God’s eyes. I did convince the clergy after some years that my conscience was clear of perversion, and was then allowed to complete my training as a Holy Knight. I suspect that they gave me such a vocation because it meant that I would more often be on the road than their sacred grounds, and also because they feared that I might return to lusting after women and violate female churchgoers.”

The pinkness of Agrias’ ears spread to her cheeks. “I have another confession to make to you, Ramza.”

“Speak freely, your secrets are safe with me.”

“I… hmm.”

The tension between them grew thicker, to the point that one could have cut it with a knife. Darting forward, Agrias broke it by pressing her lips against Ramza’s, catching her by surprise, but soon the younger woman melted into the kiss. Their mouths locked, and Agrias parted her lips to slide her tongue into Ramza’s own mouth, which Ramza accepted. They continued to snake their tongues around each other, the two women continuing to taste one another’s passion, before Ramza broke off. Her breathing was heavy and ragged, and the air between them became stiflingly warm.

Agrias’ amber eyes met Ramza’s hazel eyes, and the brief pause was interrupted by Agrias giving a smile before standing up and hefting Ramza, who gave a girlish yelp, into a bridal carry before returning to the water. The sharp cold of the pool gave them a jolt, but not so strong of one as their second kiss once Ramza’s feet found the bottom. The way Agrias cradled Ramza’s head as their oral embrace continued felt so much more loving and soft than she would have ever expected; the calluses from sword hilts and handles of myriad other weapons, though rough, made a touch far gentler than she could imagine. It was a stark contrast to the fervor with which Agrias kissed her, but the disparity was a welcome one. Never had she thought something so fierce while in battle as Agrias could be so soft while out of it.

The redness of Ramza’s face darkened as she dared to take hold of Agrias’ firm breasts, Agrias’ own face following suit at Ramza’s show of nerve. She responded to the gropage with a nip to the tender skin of Ramza’s neck, drawing a whine. “Would you rather that I touch you again with grace instead of by chance?” she whispered.

Ramza gave a nod.

Agrias traced her middle finger over the creases of Ramza’s flat chest and abdomen, stopping just above the navel before turning her palm up and cupping Ramza’s sex under the water. Ramza sucked in a breath through her teeth. “You say you developed a taste for women,” said Agrias, kissing Ramza on the forehead.

“...How many?”

Ramza was taken aback, her surprise and libido mixing into a confusing blend of emotions. “Huh?”

“How many?” Agrias repeated. She pressed her palm directly onto Ramza’s nether-lips. “How many women have you romanced? Shown affection to?  _ Bedded? _ ”

Ramza gasped at the newfound pressure. “I-I… N-n-none.”

“None, you say?”

“Indeed.”

Agrias ran her explorative middle finger along Ramza’s slit, the labia starting to puff up and seep warm fluid that invisibly dissipated in the water. “Why not?”

“Ah!”

There was a pause before Ramza gave an answer. “M-my… my efforts have met naught but f-failure. I simply l-lack the talent for wooing other women.”

A smile crept to Agrias’ lips. “Well, I would certainly say otherwise.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely. You seem to have charmed me with little trouble.”

“...Oh.”

Agrias curled half of her finger into Ramza’s valley, getting a noise that couldn’t decide whether it was going to be a squeal or a moan in response, and crushed their mouths together to muffle it. When the kiss was broken, Agrias made circles with her fingertip on Ramza’s inner walls, but upon trying to go deeper, she hit a barrier, and Ramza gasped. “I see…” she said quietly. “May I take your innocence, Ramza? Would you grant me such an honor?”

Ramza nodded.

“Then brace yourself, for this will likely be painful.”

Ramza let go of Agrias’ breasts and gripped the holy knight around the shoulders as Agrias slowly buried her finger to the knuckle inside her friend-turned-lover. The both of them felt her hymen rupture, and Ramza hissed from the pain as her hug around Agrias tightened. Her breath was laced with whimpers that soon became husky groans as Agrias worked to soothe the burning ache inside by withdrawing her finger and lightly caressing Ramza’s petals, stopping occasionally to give Ramza’s swelling clit extra attention.

Agrias looked into Ramza’s eyes, glittering again with tears, though this time they were borne by joy. She knew she had done something right when Ramza’s hold left Agrias’ shoulders and moved to her jaws instead as she was jerked into another debaucherous kiss, tasting one another’s infatuation like a masterfully crafted brandy. Clearly, her handiwork was just as masterful itself if she could wring such desire out of Ramza.

When she felt it safe, Agrias slid her digit inside Ramza again, making sure to use her thumb to roll Ramza’s pearl in little circles as she went. She could feel her partner’s walls begin to tremble, each wrinkle quaking with pleasure as an orgasm approached-

“H-hold! Agrias, I beg of you, please stop…!”

Agrias did as she was told. She wore concern on her face, though she held a bit of disappointment in her heart; had she gone too far? Had she somehow hurt Ramza more than merely robbing her of her virginity? She had been so certain that Ramza would feel unbridled joy at such an experience.

“What pains you? I have not hurt you further, have I?”

Ramza heaved through beleaguered breaths, “No, no, I… I just think… I’ve had enough. For now, I mean.”

The awkwardness that ensued was not entirely unfamiliar to Agrias. She had herself found discomfort during her first foray into the world of sapphic pleasures, after all.

“…As you wish.” The dismay escaped Agrias’ chest and tainted her voice, and Ramza heard it. Despite that, Ramza could tell that what troubled Agrias more was not the sudden end to their carnal play, but that the knight could not help but blame herself for what transpired.

“If it helps,” offered Ramza, “I would let you finish having your way with me later.”

Agrias shook her head. “No, Ramza. The last thing I want is for you to feel some obligation, to think that you have an unpaid debt to me. Sex and love are beautiful, but when not all parties involved are eager, ‘tis sex no longer. It is then naught but hollow, unfulfilling abuse, and my very soul be damned, I swear I would never-”

“Hush, now,” shushed Ramza, pressing a finger to Agrias’ frantic mouth. “I have no sense of obligation to this, to you. I have a want. I  _ want _ to know what the peak of lovemaking feels like, but… I just can’t, not now. I feel that something is wrong, with this. With us being here.”

Ramza’s embrace went from one of instinct to one of friendship. “I know not exactly what troubles me, perhaps excepting that you make so many promises and swear so many oaths that I fear you will one day not be able to keep them all,” she said with a smile. A drop of sweat from their activity rolled down her nose, but she took a palmful of water to rinse her face before letting her arms fall to her side, and both of them gave short laughs at Ramza’s little quip.

“Very well then. Shall we finish rinsing before we go?”

“Mhmm.”

The smell of sex, fortunately, did not linger between Ramza’s legs, and even if it did, Agrias doubted that anyone would notice through the odorous swamp that was still near enough to assail sensitive nostrils. Leaving the water, drying themselves off, and putting on a new change of clothes, the two of them interlocked their fingers as they headed back to camp, both warriors appreciating the warmth in their hands. “When you feel ready, tell me,” Agrias said, and Ramza replied, “Of course. It may be sooner than you think.”

 

* * *

 

Agrias Oaks was a great many things, depending upon who you asked. But, to the heroic warlord and young woman Ramza Beoulve, she was honor, trust, and love, and a friend better than she could ever hope to have.


End file.
